


Shelter

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Assault, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What began with a slightly uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turned into something horrible.  A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started with the Klainebingo prompt "spin the bottle" but then became something very different. There are some difficult moments, so please proceed with caution.
> 
> TW for sexual assault, stalking, non-con, violence.

Kurt was glad to be an adult. He liked having the ability to make his own choices, find his own way, even if it also meant he had to pay most of his own bills. So he really couldn’t believe he was stuck at this ridiculous party where apparently the cream of the NYADA drama program was actually going to play Spin the Bottle.

Kurt hadn’t planned to go out tonight at all. In fact, he had set aside the evening for working on a project for Vogue.com, or at least a proposal for the project for Isabelle to consider. But then Blaine told him that an impromptu cast party for his show was happening, and there was no way Kurt was going to send Blaine off to this lion’s den alone.

Blaine had the questionable good fortune of being cast this semester in the NYADA spring play, a modernist experimental mess written a hundred years ago by August Strindberg. The writer had apparently had some serious mental health issues, and personally Kurt thought the play suffered more than profited from whatever was going on inside his head. Usually musical theater majors weren’t even considered for the non-musical dramatic performances (Kurt always chuckled when someone referred to them as “straight plays,” since straight drama students at NYADA were few and far between). This year one of the male leads had dropped out due to illness (Kurt suspected he had a drug problem, but that was besides the point) and an upperclassmen in the show knew Blaine from their playwriting class, and before either of them could blink, Blaine had the role. 

The party had started off mildly enough, with the drama students posturing and preening as they tipped their glasses of champagne and chardonnay and confidently gestured with crackers and cheese. Kurt didn’t know the drama majors very well, but NYADA wasn’t a large school and he had, for better or worse, met some of them in his classes. Matilda, their hostess for the evening, was tall and dark, and had a strange way of looking just to the left of your head when she was speaking to you, as if waiting for someone better to come along and rescue her from the conversation. She was the one who apparently decided that playing Spin the Bottle was an amusing activity to engage in, saying something pretentious about reconnecting with their childhood selves. Kurt considered finding Blaine and making a hasty exit, but some of the other actors had already started shepherding him over to the circle of students on the floor.

With a sigh, Kurt joined the group, sliding in between Blaine and one of the tech girls. Blaine gave him a grateful look, and bumped shoulders with Kurt. “We don’t have to play,” Blaine said softly, but Kurt just glanced around the room and shrugged.

“Isn’t that my line?” Kurt asked, trying to read Blaine’s face. He understood that while Blaine didn’t really want to be here, either, it was hard to reject the overtures of this crowd. It wasn’t easy to fit in at NYADA, and even though Kurt would be fine with never fitting in with this bunch, he knew Blaine had a tough time internalizing the fact that he didn’t have to be everything to everyone. Blaine gave Kurt a resigned smile and turned his attention to the center of the circle, where an empty wine bottle was already spinning.

The first few pairs were relatively unsurprising, the actors playing it up for all they were worth, the women flipping their hair and the men looking smug. Two girls kissed next, and while Kurt was pretty certain neither of them were gay, they both seemed to enjoy themselves well enough. Next up was Barton, the guy Blaine knew from his class, and Kurt felt Blaine tense as the bottle slowed and stopped, pointing to Blaine. 

Barton was heavy and broad-shouldered, and as he leaned across the circle to meet Blaine, Kurt felt suddenly protective. The guy’s hand as he reached out for Blaine was overly large and seemed to cover Blaine’s whole face as he pulled him in for the kiss. Blaine leaned forward on his knees but lost his balance as Barton grabbed him and tugged him close with his other hand on Blaine’s ass. Almost immediately Blaine slipped out of Barton’s grasp and sat back, landing awkwardly against Kurt’s side. His face was flushed and Kurt realized with a flash of panic that Blaine was shaking.

The crowd laughed and hooted and someone told Blaine it was his turn to spin, but Kurt had had enough. “Sorry folks, but I’ve got an early class tomorrow, time for us to go.” Without waiting for any acknowledgment or bothering to say goodbye Kurt took Blaine’s hand and stood, quickly leading him out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out to the street.

When he had put a block of distance between them and Matilda’s place, Kurt finally slowed, and turned to look at Blaine. Kurt took a deep breath, letting go of his death grip on Blaine’s hand and catching his eye. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Blaine blinked, his lips pressed tightly together. “I’m not sure what just happened.”

Kurt wondered for a moment if he had overreacted. He did just drag his fiancé out of a party like a caveman, potentially embarrassing Blaine in front of everyone. “I’m sorry… I just thought it might be better if we left?” 

Blaine’s eyes got wide, and he reached out to touch Kurt’s arm. “Oh my god, yes. Yes, definitely. Thank you for getting me out of there.”

Kurt relaxed, and took Blaine’s arm in his as they started walking again. “Is Barton always like that?”

“Like what?”

Kurt struggled to describe what he had seen. “Inappropriate.” 

“I did agree to play Spin the Bottle,” Blaine said hesitantly.

“You know that doesn’t excuse him. He was practically mauling you.” And there was no need to cop a feel of someone’s ass while playing the stupid game. Barton’s behavior crossed the line, as far as Kurt was concerned.

Luckily Matilda’s place was an easy subway ride away from their own, and within the hour they were home, Kurt dozing in bed while Blaine fluttered around the bedroom, folding laundry and shuffling books on the shelf.

“Blaine? Coming to bed soon?” Kurt sat up, Blaine’s activity making him wonder if there was something he had forgotten to do as well.

“Yeah, okay.” Blaine nodded and joined Kurt under the covers, turning and sliding back so that Kurt could spoon around him. Kurt pulled Blaine tight against him, planted a soft kiss on the back of his neck, and fell asleep quickly, thoughts of Barton and the night’s discomfort far from his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: non-con; sexual assault
> 
> _What began with an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turned into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klainebingo prompt: sneaking around

The next week went by in a blur. Kurt submitted his project idea to Isabelle, who loved it, and he shuffled his schedule around to make more time to spend at the Vogue offices. It was more fun than working remotely, and he loved being able to stop by the vault and run his fingertips over the exquisite fabrics. Blaine was busy catching up on classwork after the chaos of tech week and the three performances of the Strindberg play. Kurt made a mental note to check in with Blaine, but didn’t realize just how little time they had spent together until he came across the box of moldy strawberries in their refrigerator. Blaine liked to put strawberries in his cereal, but from the looks of it, he hadn’t had breakfast in the loft all week.

The next morning, Kurt forced his eyes open when Blaine’s alarm went off, and grabbed Blaine’s wrist as he started to get out of bed. “Stay for a while?” Kurt asked groggily, twisting his head to see the time. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. “You don’t have class for hours.”

“I’m going to the gym first,” Blaine said quickly, turning to give Kurt a quick kiss on the forehead. “Can’t let that freshman fifteen creep up on me again.” Kurt didn’t think Blaine had gained an ounce lately. In fact, he seemed slimmer than usual, almost a little too skinny. But Kurt knew how sensitive Blaine had been about his weight gain the previous year, so he let it slide, and soon fell back asleep.

That afternoon Kurt stayed later than he intended at Vogue. He sent off a quick text to Blaine, feeling badly about not being able to meet him at NYADA after his last class and ride the subway home together like they usually did. To make up for it, he picked up some of Blaine’s favorite ice cream on his way home, along with a fresh box of strawberries. They definitely could use some alone time tonight, and he was pretty sure Santana was going to be out. 

Kurt was surprised to discover, however, that when he finally got back to the loft that night, Blaine wasn’t there. He checked his phone, and when he didn’t find any explanatory text, he called Blaine. Blaine picked up promptly, and explained that when Kurt let him know that he wasn’t able to meet him after class, he decided to stay at the library and get some work done, and then got dragged into a skit rehearsal with the students from his playwriting class. Kurt was disappointed, but since the evening’s change of plans had been his fault to begin with, he shrugged it off and told Blaine not to worry about it. 

A few more days went by, much in the same vein, and Kurt was beginning to worry. He had hardly seen Blaine at all, and when he did, something definitely seemed off. Even when they went off campus for a quick lunch at one of Blaine’s favorite neighborhood bistros, Blaine couldn’t seem to relax, eyes darting all around despite Kurt’s efforts to focus his attention. And although he pushed his food around on his plate, Kurt could tell he really wasn’t eating. 

When they got back to NYADA, Kurt walked with Blaine to his next class, and then stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Everything okay?” 

Blaine’s eyes flickered to Kurt’s and then away, scanning up and down the busy hallway. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Blaine shook his head, setting his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “No, really, I am. Just stressed about this presentation today.”

“All right.” Kurt wasn’t convinced, but there wasn’t much he could do. “See you later.” He gave Blaine a quick kiss and started off down the hall.

“Kurt?” He turned, watching Blaine approach him, a nervous look on his face.

“What?”

Blaine reached out to take his hand, and opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. “Nothing. Just, thanks.” Blaine gave his hand a quick squeeze and then was gone, darting into his classroom.

\------

Blaine was counting the minutes until class ended and he could meet Kurt and go home. He wasn’t sure he could hold it together any more, and only the thought of spending the night safe and warm in their bed was keeping him going. When his phone buzzed with a text from Kurt letting him know that he was going to be late and Blaine should meet him at the loft, he froze. Not again. 

His hands shaking, Blaine texted back, suggesting that he would just stay and study at the library and Kurt could meet him there when he was ready. But Kurt had to make a detour after work and pick up something for Isabelle, and NYADA really wasn’t on the way.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and considered his options. If he left now, there was no way to avoid Barton. The upperclassman had apparently enjoyed the reaction he had gotten from Blaine at the cast party, and had been stalking Blaine ever since, following him out of class, and trailing him when he left the building. When Blaine managed to get out of the building without Barton seeing him, he found himself cornered in a courtyard down the street from NYADA, Barton’s friends hanging back while Barton teased him.

Despite Blaine’s attempts to alter his schedule, coming to school earlier and earlier, and trying to leave at unpredictable times, the only thing that seemed to keep Barton off his back was if he was with Kurt or someone else. At least until yesterday, when Blaine had headed out with Trish, a student in his composition class. Barton had approached them both, giving Trish a saccharine smile and then pulling Blaine into an overly tight hug. “Why are you avoiding me, Blainey?” Barton had hissed into his ear, finally letting him go with a hard slap to his shoulder. 

The whole thing made Blaine feel small. Every day he got up and resolved to himself not to let it get to him, to handle it like an adult, like a strong, grown-up New Yorker, and every afternoon he shriveled, afraid to leave the safety of his NYADA classes and risk being accosted by Barton. There was just something about the way Barton looked at him that stripped away every confident bone in his body and left him paralyzed with fear.

Blaine headed down to the cafeteria, buying a plastic container of wilted salad and finding a table in the corner with a good view of the room. NYADA’s cafeteria wasn’t very busy at dinnertime, with most students choosing to head home or grab a bite elsewhere before their evening rehearsals, but there were enough people around that Blaine felt relatively safe. He spent a few hours there, picking at his food and trying to do the next day’s reading assignment, before he texted Kurt again. Maybe he’d be done early.

 **Sorry, still stuck here.**

Blaine sighed. He really didn’t have enough homework to keep him busy any longer, and he was tired of sitting on the uncomfortable cafeteria chairs. He was pretty sure that there was a seminar going on in the library tonight, so that was out as a place to hide. Blaine was just about to take his chances and leave when he saw Barton lingering at the door to the cafeteria, laughing loudly with another student who had a guitar slung over his back. He froze, hoping Barton wouldn’t look over, and watched. Barton and the other guy looked like they were going to the practice rooms on the upper level, and sure enough, a third student ran up to them, saying something about having a room reserved.

As soon as Barton was out of sight, Blaine slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and headed out of the cafeteria, through the lobby, and out on to the street. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was following him, he started walking towards the subway station. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far.

“Hey, Blaine, wait up,” a woman’s voice called out.

Blaine stopped and turned to see Matilda approaching him. 

“You forgot your book.” Matilda held out the script Blaine had been reading. “Barton noticed and asked me to get it to you.”

Blaine took the paperback and shoved it into his bag, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. He wanted to just run, but it would look ridiculous.

“He’ll be here in a minute.” Matilda aimed her gaze just over Blaine’s left shoulder. “You should wait for him,” she said clearly, and then spun and walked away, her hair fluttering in the cold wind.

Fat chance, Blaine thought. He turned a corner and started to walk away from NYADA, pulling out his phone as he checked to see whether he could take a different subway home, or even a bus, but he had hardly gone half a block when he heard another voice behind him.

“Blainey, why in such a rush? Didn’t Matilda give you my message?” Blaine froze, his heart beating fast, and glanced up and down the street. There was no one around – the turn he took was practically an alley, what had he been thinking?

Barton was in his space now, breathing hard, as if he had run to catch up to Blaine. “This is an odd way for you to get home. I think you got all turned around.” Barton threw a heavy arm around Blaine’s shoulders and started walking with him, but instead of going back out to the main street they turned down another alleyway, a narrow path behind the buildings that clearly wasn’t leading anywhere. “Were you playing a game with me, Blainey?”

Blaine struggled to breathe and say something, anything. “I’m not playing games, Barton. Cut this out and let me go.” Blaine tried to get out from Barton’s hold but the larger man just shoved him until his back was against the wall, some kind of pipe pressing painfully into his lower back. “Fuck, that hurts.” Blaine pushed back at Barton’s arms but it didn’t do any good. “Let go of me. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do. I really do.”

Barton spun Blaine until his chest was pressed into the bricks, his forehead slamming into the wall with a shocking burst of pain. Blaine tried to yell but Barton shoved him harder against the building, all the breath leaving his lungs and his head spinning. 

“Little tease. Little goddamn tease. Keep quiet or you’ll never see your freaky twink again.”

 _Kurt. Kurt would never let someone do this to him._ “Stop it, stop it,” Blaine twisted in Barton’s arms and struck out, trying to push Barton away. “Get off me.”

“That’s enough.” Barton punched Blaine in the stomach and threw him on the ground. Blaine couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes. He screamed as his pants were yanked down, cold hands grabbing his ass and pulling at him, and then Barton thrust into him, his head and chest scraping painfully against the ground as Barton slammed into him over and over, pain burning inside him.

Blaine wasn’t sure how much time had passed, afterwards, until he could sit up. He was cold, and shaking, and his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working right. He could see, but everything was swimming. He found his bag, and then his phone, but he couldn’t still his hands enough to press any buttons. Slowly he stood, wobbling as he tried to get his balance. The pain that shot up from his ass was worrying, but the pounding in his head was even worse, throbbing harder as he looked around, trying to remember where he was, and how to get home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What began with an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turned into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: aftermath of sexual assault, non-con
> 
> Klainebingo prompt for this chapter: nightmare

Kurt was already in bed when he heard the loft door scrape open. He sat up, rubbing his hands on his thighs, going over in his head what he wanted to say to Blaine. He knew Blaine had been disappointed that he had to work late again tonight, but he had been done by eight, and had tried to get in touch with Blaine to meet somewhere nice for a late dinner, or at least make a date for a movie on the couch. But Blaine hadn’t returned his texts, hadn’t called him, and now it was almost eleven. Blaine knew the Vogue job was important to him – they both had things that kept them busy – and he had to understand they had to be flexible, schedule-wise. He usually did, they both did. They worked hard at communicating, at making time for each other as often as they could, and at being patient when their schedules made real dates impossible. There was no call for Blaine to be annoyed with Kurt about tonight. Refusing to respond to his texts was frankly out of character for Blaine, and Kurt was confused.

Kurt heard the door close and waited, smoothing the blankets around him, expecting to hear Blaine’s usual cheery hello as he took off his coat and shoes and came to find Kurt. When a few minutes went by and Blaine didn’t appear, Kurt started to wonder what was going on. 

Kurt pushed open the privacy curtain and saw Blaine still standing by the door, leaning against the wall. Although the room was dim he could see that his eyes were closed, and as he got closer, he saw what looked like blood on his head and cheek and muddy streaks on his camel peacoat. 

Kurt suddenly felt sick, and his heart pounded in his chest. “Blaine?” He reached out, pulling his hand back as Blaine flinched at his touch. “Blaine?” he said again, his throat tight. “What happened?”

Blaine blinked his eyes open, slowly focusing on Kurt. “Kurt,” he said, his breath coming out in a sob. “It was Barton.”

Kurt took in Blaine’s hunched posture, his disheveled clothes, the angry scrapes on his forehead. What had Barton done? Kurt thought he was going to throw up. He stepped closer to Blaine, but Blaine just closed his eyes again and shuddered, sagging against the wall.

“Kurt, I think I need to go to the clinic.”

\-----

There were a lot of ways that Kurt had imagined his evening going, but not one of them had included standing in a tiny room, behind a thin green curtain, while on the other side a doctor examined Blaine after he was raped by Barton. Because that’s what had happened. There were no words to soften this blow, no euphemisms to hide behind. Blaine had been raped. 

The personnel at the clinic were calm, asking Blaine careful questions, taking photographs, and then gently explaining to him what the sexual assault exam would involve. Kurt had shakily stood by Blaine’s side during this process, trying desperately to do something to help, although he wasn’t sure what could possibly help. Blaine wouldn’t look at him – he really wouldn’t look at anyone – just kept his gaze down, his hands restlessly wringing in his lap, an occasional tear sliding down his cheek. 

When the nurse handed Blaine a hospital gown and asked him to take off his pants, Kurt tried to catch his eye to ask him if he needed help. Blaine was clearly in pain, and Kurt had already seen the marks on his shoulder and chest. But Blaine just stood, frozen, with the folded gown clutched in his hands, until the nurse gently moved Kurt aside and drew the curtain. He was shuffled into a hard plastic chair, the nurse saying something about privacy, and so he sat, and waited.

The doctor showed up, greeting both Kurt and Blaine in a manner that seemed far too friendly for the situation, and then proceeded to talk Blaine through the exam. Kurt felt like he was in a dream – a nightmare – because surely this couldn’t be happening. The nurse was speaking softly, telling Blaine to keep breathing, and he heard him cry out.

“Blaine?” Kurt couldn’t stand this, he couldn’t stand not being able to do anything.

Another cry from Blaine, and Kurt slid around the curtain. Blaine was on his side, facing Kurt, away from the doctor. Kurt crouched down next to Blaine’s head and took the hand Blaine had clenched under his chin. “I’m here. You’re okay.” Kurt ignored the concerned glance on the nurse’s face and positioned himself with his back to the doctors, just concentrating on Blaine’s face. “I’m not looking, I promise. But I’m here.” Blaine squeezed his hand in response, and Kurt tucked his face up against Blaine’s, whispering quiet nothings to him until the exam was finished.

Later they both sat in the hard plastic chairs. The nurse had cleaned Blaine’s scrapes and given him several prescriptions to fill. She also gave him pain meds that Kurt figured must be having some effect, since Blaine had relaxed a little bit, resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder. A police officer had spoken with them both, a kind, gray-haired woman who introduced herself as Detective Hartman, Kurt couldn’t help but think that the detective looked tougher and wore less make-up than the female cops they saw on television; he only hoped she was as all-knowing and competent as tv cops seemed to be. Detective Hartman asked Blaine a lot of questions about Barton and his interactions with him over the past few weeks, and Kurt realized, with a sickening wave of regret, why it had seemed like Blaine was sneaking around. He knew something had been bothering Blaine, he knew it. Why didn’t he press harder, why didn’t he make Blaine tell him? Kurt wrapped his arms around his stomach and wondered when he would stop hurting. He needed to be strong for Blaine, he couldn’t just curl up and cry.

The nurse also gave them the card of a rape crisis counselor, a folder full of information and pamphlets, and a reminder that Blaine would probably be hearing from both the police and the counselor later today. They had taken Blaine’s clothes, and he was now wearing blue scrubs and Kurt’s hooded sweater. The sage green top was one of Blaine’s favorites, but it looked odd on him, falling strangely over his hunched shoulders.

“Blaine? Kurt? Your cab is here.” The nurse helped Blaine up and handed Kurt a voucher, as if springing for the cost of the cab was going to make a difference right now. “Be sure to take it easy for a few days. The pain may get worse before it gets better.” She looked between the two of them, seeming to consider her words before continuing. “This is a lot to deal with on your own. If you have questions – anything at all – please call me. You too, Kurt.”

In the cab Blaine leaned against the window and closed his eyes. Kurt pulled out his phone and thought about sending his dad a text, but he couldn't imagine how to phrase it. He had several emails from various offices at NYADA and two from Madame Tibideaux; when the police had taken Blaine's phone, they had arranged to use Kurt's number for all future contact. Kurt didn't see why the police needed Blaine's phone, however, since there wasn't anything there from Barton, and it was just one more thing making the process more difficult for Blaine. But no one cared about his opinion.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked softly. "Okay if I read these emails?" Blaine nodded, not opening his eyes. Kurt scanned the messages: campus security, NYADA legal department... They all wanted something from Blaine. Weren't the police supposed to handle this? What Blaine needed right now was some sleep, and not to have to tell his story over a million times. Kurt shot off a quick reply to Madame Tibideaux, asking about the process and why this couldn't all be coordinated better. 

As they turned onto their street Kurt had the cab pull over in front of the drugstore on the corner. Blaine opened his eyes as the car came to a halt. 

"Do you want me to grab these and meet you at home?" Kurt asked, holding up the prescriptions. 

Blaine shook his head. "No, I'll come." 

Kurt slid out of the cab and turned to offer Blaine a hand, but he had already gotten out the other side. Kurt thought he was trying not to limp, and he ached for him, covered in bruises and scrapes, making his way through the store to the pharmacy. They had to wait, of course, and Kurt almost offered to stay and let Blaine go back to the loft, but then he realized maybe the reason Blaine had rejected that idea was that he didn't want to be alone. Kurt wished again that he knew what do to, knew what Blaine needed, but nothing had ever prepared him for this. 

Finally the medications were ready, and as Kurt pulled out Blaine's wallet to find his health insurance card (Blaine didn't have any useful pockets in the borrowed scrubs) Blaine slid up next to him and set a pile of candy down on the counter. Peanut butter cups for Kurt, red licorice for Blaine, and gummy bears, for good measure, he supposed. Kurt caught Blaine's eye and Blaine's lip twitched in an echo of a smile. 

They walked down the sidewalk to their building, exhausted and out of place among the busy New Yorkers rushing off to work and school. Kurt steered Blaine towards the rickety elevator - they usually avoided it, as it was slow, and taking the stairs was good exercise, but Blaine didn't protest. 

The loft was empty, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. They'd have to deal with Santana eventually, but not just yet.

Blaine had come to a stop at the kitchen table, his coat and shoes still on. Kurt came up next to him and put their packages down. "So," he said quietly. "Which first, shower or sleep?"

Blaine didn't answer right away, and when he did, Kurt could hardly hear him. "I'm really tired, but..."

"I think you'll feel better after a shower, and then you can sleep more comfortably," Kurt suggested. "Sound right?"

"Yeah." Blaine moved towards the bathroom, and Kurt followed him, not sure what to do. 

"Do you, uh, want help?"

Blaine gave Kurt a sad smile. "No, I'm okay. But... Don't leave?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

While Blaine was in the shower Kurt found his softest pajamas and a clean pair of briefs and brought them over to the door, along with the cream the doctor had prescribed. He knocked. Normally he wouldn't think twice about going in the bathroom while Blaine was in the shower, but nothing about this situation was normal. 

Blaine didn't respond, so Kurt knocked again, and then slowly pushed the bathroom door open. "Blaine? You okay? I just wanted to leave you these..." Blaine startled in response, and Kurt quickly backed away from the door. "I'm not coming in unless you want me to, don't worry. I'll be right here, though, okay?" Kurt stood by the bathroom for a minute, his heart racing. Should he be doing something different? His heart was breaking for Blaine, but he just didn’t know what to do to help him.

By the time Blaine got out of the shower Kurt was in his own pajamas, sitting up in bed and trying not to fall asleep before Blaine joined him. "Hey. Feeling better?" Kurt winced as he heard his own words, but surely being clean would be better, relatively speaking, right?

Blaine put the borrowed scrubs in their hamper and paused at the foot of the bed. His curls were wet, dripping down onto his pajama top. "Come here, honey." Kurt pushed the edge of their comforter aside, inviting Blaine in, but he still didn't move. Kurt ached for him.

"Blaine? I want so much to help you, but I don't know what I'm doing. Just tell me, please, is this all right? What do you need? What should I do?"

Blaine just shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Please, just tell me if I'm doing this right," Kurt begged, crawling over the bed towards Blaine, not knowing whether to touch him or not. "I mean, I don't want to make this all about me, but…" he joked softly, and Blaine, miraculously, huffed back.

"No, you're right," Blaine said, wiping his eyes. "It is about you, or, at least, it affects you too. Us. How could it not?" He wrapped his arms around his chest and looked down. "Nothing's ever going to be the same."

This sounded a bit over dramatic to Kurt, but now was not the time for semantics, not when his fiancé was in so much pain. "What do you mean?"

Blaine tightened his arms around himself and squeezed his eyes shut. "What he did to me. You'll never look at me the same way again, never be able to touch me the same way again."

Kurt felt sick. "No, that's not true at all. Not even a little bit.” His voice shook. “Why would you think that?" 

"It's obvious. You've hardly touched me since it happened."

Kurt was right, he had been doing it wrong.

“Blaine," Kurt scrambled off the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of Blaine, trying to catch his eye. "Blaine Anderson, look at me,” he said softly but firmly.

Surprised, Blaine opened his eyes and looked at Kurt. 

"As I was trying to explain to you, I don't know what to do here. I was trying to respect you, give you space. Every time I tried to touch you, you flinched." Blaine's eyes widened as he realized how true that was. "I thought maybe, given what happened, you might like a little less touching for now."

Blaine's eyes filled with tears as he looked at Kurt. “I always want you to touch me.”

"So I can hug you?" Kurt asked softly.

When Blaine nodded, Kurt sat down on the bed next to him and gently pulled him close. Blaine clung tightly, tucking his head into Kurt's neck. "I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much," Kurt said fervently, tightening his hold. He ran his hands up and down Blaine’s back, hoping he wasn’t pressing on any bruises. "When I look at you, when I touch you, I see my amazing, strong, gorgeous fiancé. Nothing _he_ did – nothing anyone else does - is ever going to change that." Kurt sat back and pressed a soft kiss to Blaine's unresponsive lips, then nodded towards the head of the bed. "Come on."

They settled themselves under the covers, Blaine curling up on Kurt's chest, Kurt wrapping one arm around Blaine's waist and the other toying gently with his curls. Blaine fisted his hand in Kurt's shirt, crying softly as Kurt tucked the blanket around them. "It's okay, I've got you," Kurt said softly. "You're going to be okay. We'll be okay." Kurt didn't know how many times he repeated those words, or a variation thereof, but eventually Blaine's trembling slowed, and he pulled back to look at Kurt. "Promise?"

Kurt smiled wryly at Blaine. "Promise."

Blaine wiped his eyes with his hand, and went to lie back down on Kurt, then paused. "You might want to put on a different shirt," he said, poking at the damp cotton.

"Don't want to sleep in the wet spot, do you?" Kurt asked, quickly sitting up and divesting himself of the offending garment, and then flopping back down. "What?" he said, as Blaine eyed his bare chest. "I'm too tired for a wardrobe change. Give me a kiss and go to sleep." Kurt froze as he heard his own words - ones he had said many times to Blaine, but which suddenly sounded a bit forceful given recent events. But Blaine just smiled, his eyes lighting up, and gave his usual response.

"Yes, dear." Blaine leaned in to kiss Kurt, and they both sunk in to it for a moment, relief and love and comfort passing between them. Blaine ended the kiss with a little smack and settled down with his head on Kurt's chest, his hair tickling Kurt's nose, and Kurt breathed deeply, his arms tight around the love of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What began with an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turned into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klainebingo prompt this chapter: teacher/student (although it may not be what you think)  
> TW: sexual assault/non-con (aftermath)
> 
> This story is complete and will be posted in full before Season 6 begins.

When Kurt woke up it was mid-afternoon. Blaine was still sound asleep, but Kurt didn’t want to leave him for long, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom, grabbed his phone and laptop, and got back into bed. Kurt eased himself back under the covers, getting as close to Blaine as he could without disturbing him, wanting him to know he was there, even as he slept. He was answering emails and contemplating what they could have for dinner when Blaine started to wake up.

Kurt could see the moment when Blaine remembered what had happened, his sleep lax body stiffening and his hand grasping the pillow under his cheek. “Hey, it’s okay,” Kurt whispered, sliding down next to Blaine and taking him in his arms. “You’re home, you’re safe.” Blaine pressed himself against Kurt, and Kurt gently rubbed his back, feeling Blaine take deep breaths in an attempt to ground himself.

Blaine finally pulled back and opened his eyes, blinking at the afternoon light. “Kurt.”

“Hi.” Kurt put a hand to Blaine’s cheek, now rough with stubble around the scrapes, and gave him a soft kiss. “Sleep alright?”

Blaine shrugged, then grimaced, his hand going to his shoulder. “Ouch.”

“It’s almost five o’clock. You’re probably due for a few pills at this point.”

Blaine nodded. He looked so unsure of himself, it made Kurt’s insides hurt. 

“Are you hungry?” Kurt asked. “We could order Thai. We can even get the beef satays.” Kurt usually insisted on chicken – lower in fat – but today that didn’t seem like much of an issue.

“With peanut sauce?”

“Of course.”

Blaine gave a fleeting smile, then pressed his face into his pillow. “Can I just stay here?” 

Kurt laughed, petting the back of Blaine’s head, where his curls were matted against the warm skin of his neck. “For a little while more. But you’re probably going to want to get dressed.”

“How come? The delivery guy won’t care.”

“Madame Tibideaux is coming over later.” Kurt was sure Blaine wasn’t going to like this news, and he was right.

“What?” Blaine turned, pushing himself up on an elbow to look at Kurt. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Blaine sat up, pulling the blanket around his body. “I don’t understand. Why can’t she just call, or email? Or wait until tomorrow, for god’s sake?”

“I think she’s worried about you.”

“Well, I’m worried too, but I don’t need to talk to the dean about it.”

“One of the students she was responsible for-”

“I get it, fine,” Blaine interrupted angrily. “I know she has to deal with it. I just don’t understand why she has to talk to me now…”

“It’s possible it’s also a little bit my fault,” Kurt said hesitantly, sitting up on his knees.

Blaine tilted his head at Kurt. “Oh?”

“All these different people wanted to talk to you – NYADA security, student services, Detective Hartwell, the counselor from the clinic, and then Madame Tibideaux too. I told her it was inappropriate to expect you to be at everyone’s beck and call right now, and that she should try to streamline the process.”

Blaine rubbed his hands over his face, taking in Kurt’s words. “I guess it’s too much to wish I could ignore all of them, just forget it ever happened.”

“Oh, baby,” Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and squeezed, pressing his face into his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Blaine nodded, melting into Kurt’s touch. “It just really sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” Kurt agreed. “I’ll do anything to help you with this, you know that, right? Anything.”

“Anything?” Kurt eased at the playful tone in Blaine’s voice. His fiancé was strong, there was no arguing with that.

“Anything. As long as it doesn’t involve going into Santana’s bedroom. I’m still a little uneasy about what she’s keeping in that trunk.”

Blaine laughed softly, his breath tickling Kurt’s neck. “How about ordering us some Thai food?”

\-----

After dinner Blaine took another shower, and came out dressed in gray jeans, a navy button up with a darker gray vest over it, and a forest green bowtie with gold polka dots Kurt had gotten him the year before. “You look very handsome,” Kurt commented, unable to resist giving Blaine a quick kiss on the cheek when he came out to join him at the kitchen table. Some kind of unformed _turn the other cheek_ pun flitted through his brain – while Blaine had scrapes on one cheek and that side of his forehead, with matching bruises on his cheekbone and by his hairline, the other side was unblemished. 

Looking at the severe gelling Blaine had given his hair, Kurt couldn’t help think that Blaine was putting on all the armor he had at his disposal. But if it helped him get through this, all the better. Kurt had put a pot of water on to boil for tea, and arranged a plate of shortbread cookies. He hadn’t really imagined ever having Madame Tibideaux come to visit, but he would try to be a good host, despite the circumstances.

The dean rang their doorbell at precisely eight o’clock, causing Kurt to wonder if in fact she was standing outside the door waiting until that moment. Kurt let her in and brought her over to the table, and when they each had a cup of tea in front of them, she began.

“Mr. Anderson, let me first say that I am sorry for disturbing your privacy tonight. Mr. Hummel pointed out that dealing with bureaucracy and red tape might not be your first priority at the moment, and he was correct to do so.” Madame Tibideaux nodded her head at Kurt and went on, forming each word deliberately in that particular manner of hers. “But I wanted to see you in person. What I have to say is important, and I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me.”

Blaine started to speak, but Madame Tibideaux interrupted him. “Please, let me go first, and then I will answer any questions that you have.” She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, looking even more regal than usual. “This should never have happened to you, or to anyone. The fact that a student in my school, under my care, was attacked in this manner by another student is something I will never forgive myself for. But that is not your concern. What is your concern is what is going to happen to Barton Leary, and what is going to happen to you.”

“First, let me assure you that Mr. Leary will never again return to NYADA. At the moment he is suspended, pending a full meeting of the board, at which time he will be expelled.”

Blaine’s breath seemed to surge out of him, and Kurt reached over and took his hand. He’d been so worried about how to help Blaine in the moment, he hadn’t even considered what it would be like for Blaine to go back to school with Barton there.

“You should know that Matilda Greer was very forthcoming with information about Mr. Leary. She has in fact given a sworn statement to the police, which I imagine will dissuade Mr. Leary from trying to lie to them – at least, that’s what I’d advise him if I were asked. Ms. Greer has voluntarily withdrawn from NYADA for the semester, and will likely not return until next year.”

“That leads me to my next point.” Madame Tibideaux took a sip of her tea, and fixed her eyes back on Blaine’s. “Your well being is my primary concern in this matter. Mr. Leary is no longer my student. There is no debate here, no two sides to the story. I am not beholden to NYADA’s attorneys, Mr. Leary’s parents, or anyone but myself where this incident is concerned, and I am here to tell you that I believe you. You were not at fault in any degree.”

Kurt felt his head start to spin. Could there have even been a question about what happened? Was Barton saying that Blaine was lying? Could anyone possibly believe him?

“You did the right thing going to the clinic immediately, Mr. Anderson, and you are to be credited for your courage in that regard. Telling your story must have been a very difficult thing to do.” Madame Tibideaux held Blaine’s gaze for a long moment, then turned to Kurt. “You are fortunate to have Mr. Hummel by your side. But don’t imagine that the two of you can get through this by yourselves. Have you told your parents yet?”

Blaine stiffened, squeezing Kurt’s hand tighter, and shook his head.

“We’ve really just been resting today, Madame Tibideaux,” Kurt explained. “We were up all night last night at the clinic…”

“Please see that you tell them soon. Although you are both adults, you are going to need their support. You should also get in touch with the counselor at the clinic – I understand you have been given the name of someone to speak to. If you find that individual to be unhelpful, let me know, and I will make sure you are paired with someone competent. You can let me know how it went on Monday, if you like.”

“On Monday?” Blaine asked.

“Yes. That leads me to the final item I wanted to discuss with you. Attendance.”

Kurt tensed. Was she actually angry because they missed school today?

“Settle down, Mr. Hummel. Hear me out, please. As I said, my primary concern in this matter is your well being, Mr. Anderson. And as part of that, I am committed to making sure that this does not interfere in any way with you continuing to get the best possible education you can at NYADA. You will not be penalized in any way for missing classes today, or anything you had scheduled to rehearse this weekend, nor will Mr. Hummel. Going forward, if there is any health reason you need to miss a class, physical or mental, let me know and I will make sure that you do not suffer any adverse affects from such absence.”

“But there is something I need to ask you to do, Mr. Anderson, and that is that you return to school on Monday, barring any health reason not to do so. I have already spoken with the myriad of individuals who seem to believe it is their right to monopolize your time, and they will not be asking you to do anything that will cause you to miss school. Detective Hartwell was very sympathetic, in fact, and I believe you can count on her to listen to anything you have to say in this regard.” 

“If at any time while you are at school you need to step away from a class, you have my full permission to do so. This goes for Mr. Hummel as well. Should you want him to accompany you to any meeting or appointment, just let me know and both of you will be excused. If you need any assistance when you return, come see me immediately. But I urge you to consider it of utmost importance to return, and to do your very best to continue on in the excellent manner you have exhibited during your time here so far.”

Madame Tibideaux drained her cup, and inclined her head towards Kurt. “Excellent tea, thank you.” She stood and pulled on her coat. “From the looks on your faces I don’t imagine you have any questions right now, am I correct?”

They both shook their heads. “If at any time you do, Mr. Hummel now has my personal email and phone number. I am available to either of you at any time – although if your question has to do with your vocal techniques assignment, please call only during my posted office hours.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What began with an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turned into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klainebingo prompt this chapter: reputation  
> TW: sexual assault, non-con (aftermath)

Madame Tibideaux let herself out of the loft, Kurt belatedly standing up and making sure the door was locked behind her. “Well, that was interesting.”

Blaine rose and started clearing the dishes, and Kurt had to stop himself from offering to do it for him. Blaine wasn’t an invalid, and Kurt needed to make sure he didn’t treat him like one. But after everything was cleaned and the cookies put away, Kurt realized Blaine hadn’t said a word about Madame Tibideaux’s pronouncements.

“What did you think about all that? It’s good that Barton won’t be at school, right?”

Blaine nodded, sitting down on the couch and drawing his knees up to his chest. Kurt followed him, sitting down beside him and sliding his legs under Blaine’s. They often sat together like this, Kurt massaging the muscles in Blaine’s calves while they watched television. But tonight Kurt angled himself towards Blaine and waited. 

“Everyone will know,” Blaine said finally, his voice tight.

 _Oh,_ Kurt thought. That’s what she was talking about. She’s worried that Blaine will feel too self-conscious to go back to school.

“They might not,” Kurt said lamely. “Barton and Matilda will be gone…”

“Yeah, and what will they tell their friends about why they’re not coming back to school? What about the other students the police are talking to, what do you think the cops will tell them about why they are asking questions about me and Barton?”

“Maybe…” But Kurt couldn’t come up with any way to refute his arguments. NYADA was a small school, and the gossip mill ran in overdrive at even the slightest whisper of drama. “Okay, so let’s talk it through.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt, his face shadowy under the bruises. "Actually, can we... Can we just go to sleep?"

Kurt thought this was probably as much an attempt to avoid thinking about what was going to happen as anything else, but he couldn't very well object. They could talk about this when Blaine was ready. Which reminded him of something that had been bothering him about what Madame Tibideaux had said.

"Sleep sounds good." Kurt got up, checked the locks on the door, turned off the lights in the kitchen and then extended his hand to Blaine, who took it and pulled himself heavily off the couch. "But first, impressive as her majesty’s speech was, I can't leave it there. Madame Tibideaux and I aren't exactly on the same page about everything."

"Oh?" 

Kurt put his hands on Blaine's shoulders and ducked his head to catch his eye. "You and I will go back to school when you are good and ready, and not a minute before. If you don't want to go in on Monday, I don't care what the reason is, we're not going." Kurt lowered his voice, and cupped a hand on Blaine's uninjured cheek. "Okay?"

Blaine nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, a tear escaping down onto Kurt's hand. Kurt wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, Blaine gratefully swaying into his embrace. 

"All right, let's get into bed before you fall asleep right here." Kurt led Blaine into the bathroom, and this time Blaine didn't protest as Kurt undressed him down to his boxers and t-shirt. Blaine seemed entirely drained, almost lifeless, right up until Kurt started to take off his top.

"Wait," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hands. "I mean, I can do it," he trailed off, turning away.

"It's okay. You finish up in here, and I'll get your pajamas."

Finally they were both in bed, Blaine lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Kurt switched off the lights and turned towards Blaine, but he didn't move. "You okay?" 

Blaine shrugged. "It's not fair. I already spend half my time at NYADA trying to convince myself that I'm just as good as everyone else, just as deserving. And now this."

Kurt didn’t see any connection. "You realize this isn't your fault, right?"

Blaine turned to face Kurt, his eyes flashing. "Isn't it? Kurt, you've been... so accepting of this whole thing. You haven't asked a single question about what happened."

"What do you mean?" Kurt had been right next to Blaine when he told the doctor every excruciating detail of what Barton did. He knew what happened. Was Blaine suggesting that he had done something to encourage Barton? Kurt didn't believe it for a second.

"Why didn't I tell you what was going on? It would have been so easy to ask you to walk home with me that night, or any of the other times Barton was lurking around. But I didn't, and I paid the price."

“That’s ridiculous,” Kurt sputtered out. "That doesn't matter. You should be able to walk down the street safely, alone or not. What Barton did is on him."

"Yeah, but I could have avoided it."

Kurt considered this, trying to think calmly. It was clearly upsetting Blaine, but he still felt like he was missing something.

"Okay, well, then, why didn't you tell me?"

Blaine huffed and fell back on the bed, laying his arm over his eyes. "I wanted to handle it by myself. Like you did. I didn't want to admit that I needed help."

Kurt was still puzzled. "What do you mean 'like I did'? That's not how I remember it."

"Come on. You didn't need anyone else to help you when you saved that kid in the alleyway."

Kurt shuffled closer to Blaine and peeled his arm off his face. "I was thinking about Karofsky, actually."

Blaine blinked, and looked at Kurt.

"I seem to remember that I didn't ask for help, when he was threatening me. I didn't tell anyone, and it didn't go so well."

"You told me," Blaine said softly.

"I know. But that wasn't until things had really gotten out of hand. I clearly should have told an adult." Like my dad, Kurt thought ruefully.

"So are you saying I should have told an adult?"

"I'm saying I understand all too well why you didn't. I'm willing to bet that you were scared, but in your heart of hearts, you didn't really believe he would actually hurt you."

"Yeah,” Blaine agreed sadly. “Right up until he did." Blaine rolled back towards Kurt, sliding one hand under his own head and searching out Kurt's hand with the other. "Thank you."

Kurt tilted his head, smiling softly at Blaine. "For what?"

"For listening, for understanding. For being the very best friend and fiancé I could ever wish for, and generally going above and beyond the call of duty."

"Oh, but that's the thing," Kurt said, moving his arm to let Blaine curl up against him, and savoring Blaine’s soft sigh as he cuddled closer. "This isn't above and beyond. This is just what the very best fiancés do. It's in the job description."

"You're still the best," Blaine murmured sleepily, snuggling in against Kurt. "Love you."

"Love you too." 

Kurt lay awake long after Blaine had fallen asleep, his breath warm against Kurt's neck. It bothered him that Blaine seemed to think this was his fault, that he was in any way responsible for Barton's criminal act. He knew that wasn’t the case, but he just didn't have the language to express it properly. With a pang, he realized that he had never responded to the messages the rape crisis center counselor had been sending him. Duh, he thought, he was just as bad as he used to be when it came to asking for help. Perhaps the counselor could help them make sense of this. 

\-----

Kurt sat on the bathroom floor, back up against the door, his laptop on his lap. He had dozed on and off for a while but eventually gave up and got out of bed, fearing that his tossing and turning would wake Blaine. He was reading websites about support for GBLT victims of sexual assault when he heard Blaine cry out.

Kurt untangled himself and stumbled into their bedroom as quickly as he could, and was met by the sight of Santana in a red camisole top and tiny shorts, smack in the middle of their bed, holding Blaine gently as he tried to catch his breath.

"It's okay, querido, it was just a dream," Santana crooned, rubbing Blaine's back. "Shhh, it's okay." 

Santana’s attention was focused entirely on Blaine, her voice genuinely warm and comforting. Not Santana’s usual style, to say the least. Kurt wasn’t sure what to make of it.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor and go make us some tea or something, Lady Hummel," Santana said, not pausing in her soothing strokes over Blaine’s back and shoulders. 

Well, that answered that. Still Santana. Blaine had relaxed against her side and seemed to be breathing more steadily, but Santana had no idea... "San, um, Blaine was…” Kurt took a breath and tried again. “I mean, last night..." Kurt really wasn't sure how he was ever going to be able to say it.

"I know, Kurt," Santana said softly, keeping her arms around Blaine.

Blaine sat up a little and wiped his face, glancing over at Kurt, but he didn't have any help to offer. "What do you mean, you know?" Blaine asked, his voice small.

Santana matter-of-factly reached up and pushed Blaine's sweaty hair away from his face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "Jeannine recognized my address on your intake form, so she knew you were my roommate. She asked me if I wanted to take your case. I told her I'd like to, but it had to be up to you. Hummel would already know all of this, by the way, if he had answered any of the dozen emails she sent him." 

Kurt came and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to take Blaine’s hand. "What emails? Granted I haven't had much sleep, but I'm still confused."

Santana huffed, shifting to sit cross-legged, still keeping an arm around Blaine. "From Jeannine, the rape crisis counselor? They gave you her card at the clinic, told you to talk to her?"

Kurt tensed. "I can't believe she told you anything. It's all supposed to be confidential." Kurt could feel his heart start to race. "How the hell do you know her, anyway?"

"Relax. She didn't break confidentiality, Kurt. We're allowed to talk to each other about our clients." Santana spoke slowly, as if Kurt was a particularly obtuse child.

The look of shock on Blaine's face would have been funny if Kurt didn't realize he was probably sporting the same one. "Santana, are saying that you're a rape crisis counselor?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, Hummel, I'm a pole dancer. What the hell do you two think I've been doing every Tuesday and Friday night for the past year?"

"Pole dancing," Kurt and Blaine said at the same time. Kurt couldn't look Santana in the eye, but he could feel her gaze shooting daggers at him. "That's what you told us,” Kurt protested. “How were we supposed to know you were actually doing something…?"

“Good? Worthwhile?” Santana shook her head and muttered a string of words in Spanish under her breath, then let out a deep sigh. "Okay, my oblivious gaybies, here's what we're gonna do. We're tabling for another time the conversation about how you two are so sickeningly wrapped up in each other that you have no idea what your roommate is doing with her life. Kurt, you are going to give Blainers and I some space - make some tea, knit a blanket, I don't really care. Blaine," Santana paused, her voice softening, "we're going to go in the bathroom and wash your face, and then come back here and talk, for as long as you want." Santana looked back and forth between Kurt and Blaine, an expression of fond exasperation on her face. "Understood?"

Later Kurt and Blaine would look back on that night as the moment that they each fell in love with Santana - not, obviously, in a romantic way, but in the _I pretty much owe you such a great big favor I know there's no way to pay it back other than be your most loyal friend forever_ kind of way. Kurt tried not to listen to Santana's conversation with Blaine, but he knew Blaine talked for a long time, and cried a little bit, and at one point Santana laughed so loudly that Kurt was afraid she was going to wake the neighbors. He was about to go yell at her when Blaine started laughing, too, and Kurt felt a wave of relief and gratitude that nearly swamped him. 

When Santana finally called Kurt back to bed, she gave them each a smacking kiss on the cheek. "We're not done here," she said to Blaine, lightly but seriously, "but you're going to be fine, querido. As long as you remember the most important thing." She gave Blaine a pointed look. "Well?"

"It's all about the cream," Blaine said, his face flushing red as he tried to bury his head under his pillow. “Kurt, make her stop." Kurt smiled and snuggled down next to Blaine under the blankets.

"Good boy,” Santana said. “I'm sure you'll both appreciate that advice the next time Kurt's looking for some action."

"Oh my god, Santana, you did not just say that," Kurt chided, throwing a box of tissues at her head.

"What? I've lived with you guys for long enough, I know the drill.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine finds it hard to keep his show face on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual assault/non-con (aftermath)

Saturday morning Blaine got up before Kurt, and by the time Kurt came to join him in the kitchen, the coffee was made and eggs and bacon were well underway. Blaine had pasted on his show face, and was smartly dressed in a white polo and one of Kurt’s favorite gray cardigans. It was a relatively normal Saturday, both of them trading off between doing homework and procrastinating. Detective Hartman came by to return Blaine’s phone, and spent a few minutes bringing him up to speed on the case, confirming what Madame Tibideaux had told them about Matilda’s statement. Santana cornered her when she had finished talking to Blaine, and apparently she earned the Santana stamp of approval, given Santana’s satisfied expression after their conversation.

By evening Blaine looked exhausted, and Kurt wasn’t surprised when he got into bed early, declining Kurt’s suggestion of a movie on the couch. Kurt got changed and climbed into bed next to Blaine, just shrugging when Blaine protested that he didn’t have to go to sleep yet, wrapping his arms securely around his fiancé. Kurt didn’t mind that he couldn’t fall asleep right away – he didn’t think Blaine slept very well either – but at least Blaine was safe, and he was here with him. Kurt knew he couldn’t fix this for Blaine, but he was determined to do whatever he could to help him through it. If that meant going to bed at eight on a Saturday night, well, that was a hardship he could easily endure.

Sunday was different. Blaine seemed to have reached his limit for powering through, and refused to get out of bed for breakfast. Kurt busied himself straightening up the loft, but he could tell from the tossing and turning going on in their bedroom that Blaine wasn’t sleeping. He brought a basket of laundry into their room and proceeded to quietly put everything away, methodically buttoning each item of clothing and hanging it neatly in its place. He could tell that Blaine had stilled, and when he finally turned to look at him, Blaine was gazing back, his expression so sad that Kurt’s heart ached.

Kurt put down the shirt he was holding and came over to the bed, sitting down in the pile of rumpled blankets. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap.” Blaine closed his eyes and pressed his face into his pillow. 

“You can’t stay in here all day,” Kurt said gently. “It won’t make you feel any better.”

“I know,” Blaine said, his voice muffled. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“How about I run you a bath?” Kurt tentatively laid a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, trying to avoid the bruises he knew lay hidden under his soft t-shirt. “I’ll use the lavender bath bubbles?”

Blaine nodded, more or less, so Kurt dropped a light kiss to his head and got up.

When everything was ready, the bathroom filled with steam and the inviting scent of the bath bubbles, Kurt returned. It didn’t look like Blaine had moved. “Come on, sleepyhead. The water’s nice and hot.”

Blaine assented and slid himself out of bed, hobbling into the bathroom. Kurt handed him a clean towel and moved to close the door behind him. “Enjoy.”

“Kurt?” Blaine reached for him, his fingers grazing his wrist. “Keep me company?”

Kurt averted his eyes while Blaine undressed, straightening the lotion bottles on the sink, then settled himself down on the floor. Blaine let out a sigh as he slid into the steaming water, and seemed to relax a little as he sank under the foam. When he was in all the way, Kurt slid a rolled up towel under his head, and Blaine smiled gratefully. “Thanks. This is nice.”

Kurt inhaled deeply. “Like our very own English garden.”

“Mmmm.” Blaine closed his eyes, his face calm. Kurt sat and watched him for a few minutes. He tried to sit still, but despite his sincerely felt desire to do any damn thing in the world for Blaine, he was antsy. He ran through a monologue in his head, and then started thinking about a song for his next vocal techniques assignment. It was boring, and his mind kept returning to his battered fiancé, lying in the tub next to him, lost and hurting.

Kurt looked at Blaine, his eyes still closed, lashes dark against his pale skin. Kurt thought he should have lit some candles – the harsh light in the bathroom didn’t do anything for Blaine’s complexion, rendering him almost as pasty as Kurt. Of course, the stubble and the scrapes didn’t help, either. Kurt was pretty sure this was the least romantic bath they had ever taken together, if you could even call it that, and yet his heart was overflowing with love for this man. He just wished there was something more he could do.

“Want me to wash your hair?”

Blaine opened his eyes and looked at Kurt, blinking. It wasn’t a hard question, and yet Kurt felt bad for disturbing him. “Okay.”

Kurt stood. “I’ll just run to the kitchen and be right back.”

Blaine nodded and closed his eyes again.

Kurt got a pitcher and returned to the bathroom, then filled the pitcher with warm water from the sink. He kneeled next to the tub, ignoring the way his knees protested at the hard floor. “Hey, you ready?”

Blaine sat up and gave Kurt a shy smile, then tilted his head back as Kurt poured some of the warm water over his head. He tried to keep it from getting in his face, but he wasn’t entirely successful, and Blaine winced as the water trailed over the scrapes on his forehead.

“Hang on.” Kurt grabbed the hand towel off the ring and held it out to Blaine. “Put this over your eyes?”

Kurt got the shampoo and started working it into Blaine’s hair, massaging his scalp as gently as he could. He couldn’t help but compare this to previous times they had washed each other’s hair, naked and happy in the shower together, teasing and flirting and generally having much more fun than just getting clean could ever offer. No, this was something entirely different. Or at least, he thought, mostly different. The reason for what he was doing, the love he felt for Blaine, was exactly the same.

Kurt refilled the pitcher and began rinsing Blaine’s hair. Blaine seemed tired of trying to hold his head back, and Kurt decided they’d skip the conditioner for today, even though he had a new product he was dying to try on him. When he was satisfied that the shampoo was thoroughly rinsed out, he set the pitcher down and let the hand that had been working through Blaine’s hair rest gently on his shoulder. Blaine took the cloth away from his face and gave Kurt a little smile, so Kurt put both hands on his back and started giving him a gentle back rub, more just tender touches than anything else. The bubbles were mostly gone, and Kurt could see the large angry bruise on Blaine’s lower back from where Barton had shoved him up against the wall. Blaine pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned forward, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his knees, and Kurt let his mind wander.

Kurt didn’t realize he was humming until Blaine spoke up.

“I’ve never heard you sing that.”

Kurt rewound the song in his head, and smiled. It wasn’t the type of song he usually sang, but it had amused him to think about singing it to Blaine, maybe at karaoke some night when they were both tipsy and full of the joy of each other, happily echoing each other on the chorus, their friends all joining in. “It makes me think of you.” 

Blaine’s eyes opened, and he tilted his head. “Oh?”

“My brown eyed boy,” Kurt explained. He traced lines on Blaine’s shoulder blades, and began to sing softly. _“Hey, where did we go? Days when the rains came. Down in the hollow, playing a new game. Laughing and a-running, skipping and a-jumping, in the misty morning fog with our, our hearts a-thumping.”_ Kurt pushed a damp curl off Blaine’s forehead, still gazing into his shining eyes. _“And you, my brown-eyed boy. And you, my brown eyed boy.”_

Blaine’s eyes were wide and filling with tears, but he was giving Kurt his full attention. Kurt continued singing, slowly and softly, not at all like he had imagined giving this performance someday. _“Do you remember when, we used to sing? Sha la la la la la la la la la dee dah. Sha la la la la la la la la la dee dah. La dee dah.”_

Blaine buried his face against his legs and his shoulders began to shake, and Kurt felt his heart breaking. He was moving before he could second guess himself, stripping off his shirt and jeans, and easing himself into the tub behind Blaine. He slid his legs awkwardly around Blaine’s body, his legs pressed between Blaine’s and the side of the tub, and kept singing. _“So hard to find my way, now that I’m on my own. I saw you just the other day, my how you have grown.”_

Kurt ignored the water sloshing over onto the floor, and concentrated on the feel of his skin against Blaine’s as he leaned down, winding his arms around Blaine, leaning his cheek against his shoulder, holding him gently as he cried. 

_Cast my memory back there, Lord_  
 _Sometimes I’ve overcome thinking about_  
 _Making love in the green grass behind the stadium with you._  
 _My brown eyed boy._  
 _You, my brown eyed boy._

_Do you remember when, we used to sing?_  
 _Sha la la la la la la la la la dee dah._  
 _Sha la la la la la la la la la dee dah. La dee dah._

Kurt stayed curled around Blaine for a few more minutes after he finished the song, doing his best not to cry himself. He rested his head on his fiancé’s back, his arms firmly wrapped around him, holding him tight. Kurt never could have imagined that being naked in the bath with Blaine could have been as completely non-sexual as this moment was. He focused on his breathing, taking deep, slow, breaths, feeling his chest press against Blaine’s skin with each inhale and exhale, hoping it would help Blaine to relax, too. 

Finally Blaine stopped trembling, and pressed his palms against his eyes. He took a deep breath and turned, fluttering his long eyelashes at Kurt. “Just brown, huh? Not hazel, or honey, or golden?”

Kurt laughed, the movement jostling them both and making waves in the bathtub. Of course it was all about the song. He smirked and started singing again, a different song this time, one Blaine liked to sing to Kurt. _“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do…”_ Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine, who joined in, his voice rough with tears. _“You see I’ve forgotten, if they’re green, or they’re blue. Anyway, thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”_

Blaine just stared at Kurt for a minute, then twisted further to kiss him, his arms going around Kurt’s waist, fingers gripping tightly. He shivered a little, and Kurt hugged him close, suddenly aware that the water was no longer warm. “Let’s get out before we shrivel up.”

After awkwardly extracting themselves from the narrow bathtub, Kurt doing his best to lend Blaine a hand without seeming to imply that Blaine couldn’t do it himself, they dried off and got dressed. Blaine headed for the couch almost automatically, then paused and turned to look at Kurt. “Maybe we could go for a walk?”

“Of course.”

It was a relief to get outside after several days cooped up in the loft. Kurt was glad Blaine had suggested it; frankly he would have been happy to do anything Blaine suggested, but this option seemed like a healthy one. Blaine looked a little nervous at first when they exited their building, but then he looped his arm together with Kurt’s, took a deep breath, and gave him a shy smile as they set off down the street. 

They ended up at a small playground a few blocks from their apartment, sitting on a cold wooden bench, the slats hard against Kurt’s legs. Blaine’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his navy peacoat. Santana had taken his camel one to the dry cleaners, but Kurt wasn’t sure whether Blaine would want to wear it again; he had liked the navy one better, anyway. Blaine had a gray beanie covering his damp curls – if nothing else, Blaine’s willingness to go outside without even making an attempt to style his hair gave away how off kilter he was feeling.

Kurt sat close to him, their shoulders and thighs pressed together. They were quiet for a while, watching a set of small twins playing on a tiny jungle gym. When a man headed towards the children Kurt could feel Blaine tense, but they both squealed happily and ran to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. The three left the park together, the man hefting both kids into his arms and promising them that they could come back next week.

Kurt was searching his mind for something to say, maybe suggest picking up some food for a late lunch, when Blaine spoke.

“I just want to know why he did it.”

Kurt knew he was talking about Barton, of course. “I don’t know, honey,” he said, his throat suddenly tightening up.

“He said I was playing games with him. He said I was _a tease._ ” Blaine turned to Kurt, taking his hands out of his pockets and grasping them together tightly. “And I’ve thought about it, and I wasn’t, not at all,” Blaine said urgently, his voice pained.

“Of course you weren’t, don’t even think that,” Kurt responded as quickly as he could. “You didn’t even like him. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kurt shifted, taking Blaine’s chilly hands in both of his.

“But I must have done something.” 

Blaine’s eyes were cast down, fixed on his feet, and Kurt put a hand on his cheek, turning his face to try to catch his gaze. “If you were friendly with him, or even flirted with him – which you and I both know you didn’t - that still wouldn’t give him permission to rape you. Nothing you ever said or did could excuse what he did. Nothing.” Blaine didn’t respond. 

“Blaine, you can’t really imagine that you asked for him to do this, can you?” Kurt asked. Blaine just shrugged stubbornly. “Okay, let’s find out.”

Blaine looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, do you remember ever telling Barton, with words or otherwise, that you wanted to have sex with him?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “No, of course not.”

“What about that night? Did you tell him, that night, that you wanted him to-”

“Kurt, I’m not an idiot,” Blaine interrupted. “I know I didn’t tell him that. Obviously, I told him exactly the opposite. I just don’t understand why, then. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do such a horrible thing?” Blaine’s voice was breaking, and he stood up, frustrated, waving his arms as he spoke. “Who would do this to someone they knew? To anyone?”

“You know the answers as well as I do, as much as it’s possible to know them.” Kurt said, standing up and looking Blaine in the eye. “He wanted to exert power and control over you, humiliate you. Maybe he was intimidated by you, angry about your success at NYADA. Maybe he was feeling inadequate in some way, and thought this would make him feel better. You know this. It was an act of violence, and nothing about it was your fault.”

Blaine seemed to deflate, and stepped closer to Kurt. “Rationally, I know that, but…” he shrugged helplessly at Kurt, his breath hitching as he spoke. Kurt put his arms around him and Blaine leaned against him, exhaling deeply. “Fuck, I’m just so tired of crying.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Kurt held him closer, and rocked him gently against him. “Want me to text Santana, see if she’s around? You can talk to her more. She seems surprisingly good at this.” 

“You’re good at this,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt’s neck, pulling him tighter against him. “But okay.”

Kurt gave Blaine a squeeze, and pressed a kiss to his cold cheek. “It’ll get better.”

Blaine sniffed and rubbed a finger along Kurt’s back, right where his tattoo was. “Or it’ll have Bette Midler.”

“Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End note: The song Kurt sings is “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison; they both sing a little bit of Elton John’s “Your Song.”**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What begins as an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turns into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare._
> 
> _In this chapter, Blaine and Kurt start to navigate their new normal, including easing back towards intimacy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual assault/non-con (aftermath)

Blaine did go back to school that Monday, head held high and trembling finely in his skin. He made it through all of the first day and most of the second before anyone said anything – the culprit a senior friend of Barton’s who apparently didn’t like the idea that Barton was going to be expelled and Blaine was still walking the halls. Blaine fired back a cascade of confident and calm retorts, then stumbled into a stall in the men’s bathroom and collapsed on to the floor, shakily pressing out a text to Kurt. When Kurt found him, his breathing already returning to normal, Kurt couldn’t help but think about how many times he had retreated to McKinley’s restrooms to pull himself together. Kurt made Blaine laugh by pointing out that he should have at least camped out in the women’s bathroom, where it was certain to be cleaner.

The days went by, and most of the time things seemed normal. They made some changes in their routine so that Blaine and Kurt always went back and forth to school together - there was no way Kurt was letting Blaine walk down that block near NYADA alone, not yet, anyway. Santana seemed to be around the loft more, managing somehow to layer a reassuringly comforting presence under her usual snarky self. Kurt had a few conversations with her, and with a friend of hers at the clinic, when he was feeling particularly lost. He was amazed at how easy it was for Blaine to open up to Santana, how relaxed Blaine was around her, and gave thanks to the great spaghetti monster in the sky that their fiery high school friend was here with them now. One day Kurt was overcome with the thought that Finn would have been so very, very proud of her.

Slowly Blaine told his parents, and his brother, and Sam. And Burt, during a Skype call which Kurt would never be able to erase from his memory, Burt and Blaine sobbing as Kurt held Blaine and wished with all his heart that he could hold Burt, too.

Kurt knew that Blaine was struggling with whether to be open about what had happened with all of their friends. Most people at NYADA knew, but aside from Sam, he didn’t think word had gotten back to the McKinley crowd. But one day he came home to find Blaine spread out on the couch in between Rachel and Santana, Rachel painting his toenails while Santana gave him some kind of scalp massage, all of them giggling like crazy. When Rachel glanced up at him with a quick smile before turning back to playing with Blaine’s toes, he could see the knowledge and pain in her eyes. After that, there was a call with Tina, ostensibly because Blaine didn’t want her to find out from Rachel. Perhaps the contact that surprised Kurt the most was a long handwritten letter from Kitty that Blaine read while pressed tight against Kurt on the sofa, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Blaine still startled sometimes, when strangers on the street passed by too closely, or students yelled in the halls. One morning while Blaine was making coffee, humming along to the music playing on his iPod, Kurt forgot, and came up behind him without warning. As Kurt began to slide his arms around Blaine’s waist Blaine jumped, dropping his mug on the floor and sucking in a panicked breath. Kurt sat him down at the table, Blaine’s head between his knees, as Kurt knelt on the floor next to him, whispering words of reassurance into his ear. Kurt had learned that sometimes it was better not to crowd him, and he let Blaine seek him out, his fingers working into Kurt’s hair, that touch enough to help him calm himself down.

Kurt did look at Blaine a little differently now, not with disgust as Blaine had feared, but with a newfound respect. He hadn’t known Blaine when he got beaten up after the Sadie Hawkins dance at his old high school years ago, but he wondered what toll it took on someone to keep coming back from this kind of thing, from such violation. Yet Blaine was surviving, beautifully. Kurt felt almost reverent, sometimes, looking at Blaine while he slept, curled up against his chest, the scrapes on his lovely face slowly healing. 

There were some days when Kurt needed so strongly to be with Blaine that he would hover outside whatever class he was in, peeking through the window in the door to make sure he was okay. He still drove himself crazy trying to figure out how much was too much when it came to being physical with Blaine, even platonically so, but Blaine told him that he’d let him know if anything was too much, and so far, it hadn’t been. He tried to keep in mind what Blaine had told him right after it happened -- that any aversion to being touched didn’t apply to touches _from Kurt._ Certainly Blaine seemed to soak up any and all physical contact from Kurt, seeking him out at school as well as at home, Blaine’s tension abating just by being near him. 

Regardless, there was an unspoken acknowledgement between them that returning to their previous level of intimacy was going to take some time. Kurt had no problem with this – as long as he had Blaine with him, curled up next to him in bed at night, heart beating safe and warm under his hand, sometimes he thought he would never need anything else.

And the truth was that the attack was haunting Kurt, too. In his dreams he saw a dark figure beating Blaine, breaking him, inflicting horrific physical injuries that thankfully hadn’t happened in real life. And he saw Blaine after the attack, scarred and frightened, flinching away from Kurt. Afraid of Kurt’s touch. Rejecting him.

He didn’t tell Blaine when he had the first nightmare, but when it happened again, waking Blaine from a sound sleep, Blaine looked so pained at Kurt’s attempt to deflect that it all came tumbling out. Even though it was just a dream, the fear and sadness felt so real. What if Blaine had been damaged far worse? What if Kurt could never hold him again? But Blaine held him, and soothed him, and whispered sweet words over and over.

Then just as the dream was fading, and Kurt was beginning to drift off to sleep, Blaine sat up. He took off the worn Dalton t-shirt he was sleeping in, and poked experimentally at the fading bruises on his shoulder and ribs. Then with a gentle look, he smoothed his hands down from Kurt’s shoulders and over his arms, then unbuttoned Kurt’s pajama top and slid it off him. Blaine lay back down and pulled Kurt against him, skin against skin. “My body loves your body, Kurt,” Blaine said softly. “I’ll never be afraid of you. It’s not possible.” Kurt let out a long breath, overwhelmed with the joy he felt, being with this man. Blaine took Kurt’s hand and placed it over his heart, and Kurt spread his fingers, the dark hair sprinkled across Blaine’s chest soft under his hand. “Soon I’ll be healed and I’ll show you, sweetie. I promise.”

“No, it’s okay, there’s no rush,” Kurt said quickly. “Really, I didn’t mean…”

“I know, don’t worry. It’s okay.” Blaine quieted him with a squeeze and a kiss.

Blaine seemed content, but Kurt knew that this was only confirming what Blaine had been worried about from the beginning – the attack did affect them both, separately and together. Their relationship would be forever changed. But Kurt was beginning to suspect that as hard as this was to navigate, in the end, they would only be stronger.

Santana emailed them the next morning with suggestions for support groups they could attend together. Kurt’s look of surprise was met by rolling eyes and a “we don’t have any walls, dumbass” comment from Santana, and soon Wednesday nights the three of them had a standing date in a nearby church basement. If they always followed the meeting with greasy cheeseburgers at a late-night diner around the corner, no one but them were the wiser.

A few weeks later Blaine emerged from the bathroom wearing only boxers, and climbed into bed with an eyebrow raised in invitation. Kurt surged against him like a wave crashing against the shore, pleasure like lightning in his limbs as Blaine tugged his briefs off and took him in his hand. Kurt let Blaine take the lead, but it became clear over the next few days and nights that Blaine was eager to let hands – and mouths – return to travel south of the border.

Kurt was still hesitant, however, when it came to touching Blaine _there._ He knew that Blaine was physically okay. Time, and the cream Santana was so fond of reminding them about, had done its job, and Blaine was healed. But he still worried.

Blaine hadn’t said anything, but Kurt was starting to get the message that he was ready for more. One evening after they had cleaned up from their very satisfying mutual handjobs, teeth brushed and bodies snuggled under the covers, Blaine turned away from Kurt and pulled Kurt’s arms around him, assuming his usual little spoon position. Then he slid his ass firmly back against Kurt’s body. Kurt held his breath while Blaine wiggled around a little bit, finally settling with a quiet sigh. “Comfortable?” Kurt asked softly, relaxing against Blaine and pressing a kiss behind his ear.

“Very.”

The next night, Kurt was happily on the receiving end of one of Blaine’s enthusiastic blow jobs, when he felt Blaine’s finger circling his hole. He was so aroused at this point that all he could do was squirm towards the pressure, encouraging Blaine, who obediently slipped the tip of his finger inside. Kurt came soon after, exploding with pleasure, words of praise tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Mmm, you feel so good,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear, Kurt panting as he tried to kiss Blaine and catch his breath at the same time. 

“Isn’t that my line?” Kurt asked. His hand was pressed firmly against Blaine’s lower back, and he pulled him tight against him, loving the way it felt when they were together from head to toe.

Blaine snuggled closer, winding a foot around Kurt’s calf. “You can touch me _there,_ you know,” he said quietly. “And, you know, in that general area.” Blaine dug his face into Kurt’s neck. “I miss you touching my butt.”

Kurt giggled softly, and shifted so he could see Blaine’s face. “Bet you never thought you’d say that,” he said, brushing his nose against Blaine’s.

“Add it to the list,” Blaine agreed. “But really, I’ve been told I have an awesome ass, and it misses you.”

“Well, you certainly do have an awesome ass,” Kurt said, reaching around and giving Blaine’s butt a gentle squeeze. “But I wouldn’t worry. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.” 

Kurt lay there happily in Blaine’s arms, lazily running his hand up and down his back, and yes, over his ass and his thigh, and up again. Blaine was breathing softly against his chest, open and relaxed. Kurt thought he knew what Blaine had been trying to say, but he still wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to get this wrong. Given Blaine’s declaration, though, it was probably his turn to speak up.

“Blaine?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Although I think you already have.”

“Ha ha.” Kurt let his hand rest on Blaine’s hip, his thumb stroking over his hipbone. “When you say your ass misses me, do you mean you’re ready for…?” Kurt couldn’t quite get the words out, but Blaine took pity on him.

“Yes. Everything.” Blaine kissed him, deeply and sweetly, and when he pulled back Kurt could swear he was blushing. “Not tonight, obviously, but… I really miss that. You inside me. And I’d like it if we could be together again, that way, soon.”

Kurt knew exactly what Blaine was talking about. No matter how much they enjoyed everything else they did together, there was something about being inside Blaine that way, or Blaine being inside him, that was different. It required a level of trust and openness that left them both dazzled with the amount of love it was possible to feel. While they didn’t do it all that frequently, especially when they were so busy juggling school and work and roommate schedules, when they did, it was always something amazing. For better or for worse, it meant something special to them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt plans a special evening. Blaine has told him he’s ready; Kurt doesn’t know why he’s the one who’s nervous.

It was a Saturday night, and Kurt was circling the kitchen table, adjusting the silverware, replacing the midnight blue napkins with the cerulean striped ones, trying to find the ideal placement for the candles. He wanted everything to be perfect – but at the same time, he didn’t want to make too big a deal out of the evening. He recognized the irreconcilable differences in this position, but he was helpless to fix it. His thoughts had been involved in this kind of ridiculous spiral all day long.

Kurt was lining up the spoons along the sides of the knives – they were obstinately refusing to stay straight - when Blaine got home. Before he could let go of his obsession with the silverware and make some pretense of suave confidence Blaine was there, warm and solid against his back, his scent suddenly surrounding him. Blaine gently put his arms around Kurt and stilled his hands, then planted a soft kiss on the side of his neck. “Honey, I’m home,” he sing-songed softly.

Kurt closed his eyes and relaxed back into Blaine’s hold, taking a moment to marvel at the inadvertent double meaning of Blaine’s comment. Blaine _was_ his home, his safe place, his security. He turned in Blaine’s arms and kissed him deeply, thankful beyond words that Blaine was still here, whole and healthy, still his. That Barton hadn’t kicked him so hard that he bled out in the alleyway, or knifed him when he resisted, or…. The possibilities were endless, and Kurt had thought of dozens of them. But those thoughts were not for tonight.

He shook his head, and tried to focus.

“This looks wonderful, Kurt,” Blaine said, indicating the platter of grilled vegetables and cheeses Kurt had arranged. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Kurt shook his head. “The chicken’s done, the dessert’s in the fridge…” Kurt reached out to straighten one of the spoons again.

“Come sit down with me.”

Kurt obediently followed Blaine to the couch. He could tell from Blaine’s gentle tone that he had picked up on his mood, and he let him snuggle them together, his face pressed into Blaine’s neck, his knees pulled up against Blaine’s thigh. They sat quietly, breathing each other in, Blaine stroking a hand gently along Kurt’s neck. “I like it here,” Kurt said after a little while. “Would you let me stay?”

“Of course,” Blaine agreed easily. “But at some point we might want dinner.”

“Mmm.” Kurt shifted, then began kissing along Blaine’s jawline, loving the way he could sense Blaine’s almost instant reaction to his mindful touch, arousal sparking between them. “Dinner can wait.”

Blaine curled towards him, his hands coming up to frame Kurt’s face, his body eager. But he must have seen something in Kurt’s eyes that gave him pause. Blaine pulled back for a moment. “You okay, honey?”

Kurt would have laughed out loud at the irony of this situation if Blaine’s question hadn’t been so insightful. He wasn’t sure if he was completely okay. But he was with Blaine, and so he was safe. “If you’re asking if our evening plans are still a go, I certainly hope so. Otherwise that giant pack of condoms Santana bought us is going to go entirely to waste.”

Kurt cringed internally at his own words as soon as he heard them. He hoped Blaine wouldn’t be upset at the mention of condoms. Although Blaine had been tested, and was clean and negative, it would be another month or so before they could be absolutely sure that Barton hadn’t exposed him to HIV. They had spent an evening a few weeks ago arguing about whether they could even have sex during this period, with Blaine worried that despite using condoms Kurt could still be at risk, until Santana stormed in holding a laptop with five open tabs all explaining how low their risk actually was. 

But Blaine apparently didn’t associate Kurt’s comment with his previous concerns, or he just wasn’t going to let it bother him tonight. He just smiled at Kurt, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m glad. You know I don’t like being wasteful. But why don’t we go ahead and have dinner first, and see where we are?”

Kurt relaxed over dinner, his nerves dissipating in the wake of Blaine’s easy confidence, and a heated debate about who was going to be the lead in the freshman play. Blaine was sure it would be Tova, a petite blond girl he had been mentoring all year, while Kurt thought Carly was more likely to get the role, even though Tova might do a better job. That the part didn’t always go to the most talented student was a lesson they were both familiar with.

After dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Kurt started to take the dessert out of the fridge – a simple parfait of blueberries with zabaglione custard that he had arranged in pretty martini glasses.

Blaine stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Want to save that for later?” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes at Kurt, his caramel eyes warm and wide.

“I take it that means you do?” Kurt closed the refrigerator door and turned his attention to Blaine, who was clearly not interested in dessert – at least, not that kind. “Come on, let’s go get naked.”

They fell into bed in a delightful tangle, eagerly undressing themselves and each other, until they were finally ready, all clothes discarded. Blaine was grinning like a loon at Kurt and Kurt imagined his own expression looked somewhat the same, but then Blaine pulled him close and started pressing kisses to his collarbone and along his jaw, and Kurt stopped thinking about how he looked. 

Kurt let Blaine work him into a frenzy for a little while, then took over, planting kisses down Blaine’s neck and chest. He licked and sucked one nipple, then the other, his hands roaming over Blaine’s skin as he went. From the sounds of Blaine’s moans, and the almost wanton way he was spreading out underneath Kurt, he knew Blaine was ready. Kurt sunk lower, his tongue working over Blaine’s cock, and his fingers pressing back against his hole.

Kurt paused for a minute, reaching for the lube, and caught Blaine’s eye. “Still good to go?”

“So good.” Blaine’s eyes were blown and his voice rough, his hands catching in the sheets.

Kurt grabbed a pillow and slid it under Blaine’s ass, then lubed up his fingers. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach and began circling a fingertip around Blaine’s hole. When Blaine’s writhing intensified, Kurt slipped a finger in, eliciting a long moan from Blaine. “Oh, Kurt, yes. _Yes._ Oh, god, yes.” Kurt carefully added another, and then a third, finding Blaine’s prostate and stroking it with firm pressure. His glance alternated between the sight of his fingers moving in and out of Blaine and his fiancé’s face, which was suffused in pleasure.

Blaine reached to run his fingers through Kurt’s hair, grabbing on and giving him a little tug. “I’m ready. Please, I want you now. Please.” 

Kurt pulled his fingers out and wiped them on a tissue, then surged up to kiss Blaine. “Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck, Kurt, yes,” Blaine panted, trailing his hand down to Kurt’s cock and stroking it firmly while his legs moved to press and wrap about Kurt. Kurt loved it when Blaine got like this, his whole body composed of nothing but pure desire. He moved Blaine’s hand away and rolled a condom on, then positioned himself between Blaine’s legs and slowly began to push in. 

Blaine held still, eyes squeezed shut, obviously trying to relax. Kurt leaned forward, holding himself up over Blaine, watching his face for signs of distress. Blaine was tight, and hot, and the pressure was almost too much for Kurt. Finally he was in as far as he could go. He stilled, frozen. 

When more than the expected time had gone by and Kurt was still motionless above Blaine, Blaine opened his eyes. He reached a hand up to Kurt’s face. “Kurt? You can move. I’m okay.” Blaine squirmed tentatively underneath him.

But Kurt couldn’t move. He was suddenly not at all sure how he had gotten here, and was overcome with fear. This wasn’t right.

“Kurt?” Blaine sounded scared now, and Kurt closed his eyes, afraid to look. Blaine put his hands on Kurt’s hips and moved them apart, and Kurt braced himself, but then Blaine’s arms were wrapped around him, strong and secure. 

“Kurt, honey, it’s okay.” Kurt hadn’t realized he was crying until Blaine was wiping the tears off his face. “Baby, it’s okay, we’re both okay. What’s wrong? Talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Kurt just shook his head and clung to Blaine, whose voice was breaking with concern. “Tell me, Kurt, please tell me what’s going on.” Blaine held him close, rocking him in his arms. “I love you, I love you so much. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Kurt took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself enough to answer Blaine. “I just… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be like him. And just now, when I… that’s all I could think about…” Kurt started crying again, harder, his sobs shaking him all over. “And I know that’s exactly what you were afraid of. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh, honey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” Blaine pulled Kurt on to his chest, rubbing circles on his back. “You didn’t hurt me. You weren’t going to hurt me. Nothing about you or what we do together could ever be like it was with him.” Blaine ran a hand over Kurt’s head, working his fingers into Kurt’s hair and holding him close against him. “Just relax. It’s okay. We’re going to get through this, you and me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not fair that you should have to… it’s not fair.”

“I know. None of this is fair.”

Kurt didn’t know how long he lay there, Blaine stroking up and down his arms, his back, fingers tracing his cheekbone, tucking his sweaty hair off his face. Blaine started humming after a while, and then singing softly. _Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you._ Kurt closed his eyes and concentrated on Blaine’s soothing voice, and how he could feel the vibrations in his chest as he sang. _Like a river flows, surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be. So won’t you just take my hand, take my whole life too. ‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you._ Eventually Kurt realized he was relaxed, almost peaceful, and he opened his eyes to see Blaine gazing at him.

“I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

Kurt shifted up so he could see into Blaine’s eyes. He looked concerned, but not upset. Kurt put a hand on his cheek, and Blaine pressed a kiss into it. “I love you so much, you know,” Kurt said. “A ridiculous amount.”

Blaine smiled, and Kurt could feel his cheek move under his hand. “I know. I love you too.” Kurt kissed him, softly at first, and then more urgently, as his banked desire rekindled. He really hadn’t thought it through, but after a few minutes he realized they were both hard again, and he stuttered out an apology.

“Blaine, I’m not sure I can, I mean…” he trailed off helplessly, not sure himself what he was trying to say, just that he didn’t want what just happened to happen again. His body clearly hadn’t gotten the message, though, as his hips pressed against Blaine, seeking the contact.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Blaine said gently, rising up on an elbow to look Kurt in the eye. “How about we try it this way?” Blaine touched Kurt’s shoulder and nudged, and Kurt understood right away. He lay down on his back and Blaine rose up and straddled him, sitting down lightly on his thighs. Then he stretched out over Kurt, his hands cradling his head. “I want you, Kurt,” Blaine whispered to him, face close to his. “I want you inside me. But I don’t _need_ it, and it definitely doesn’t have to be now. We can do whatever you want.”

Kurt looked into Blaine’s eyes. There was no hint of fear there, no chance of rejection. Kurt knew Blaine wanted this, the connection and the security of it, and Kurt wanted it too. Kurt was still scared, but he could also feel the truth of Blaine’s words. Blaine wasn’t afraid. Kurt would never hurt him. Kurt knew it was true, and Blaine knew it, and there was nothing to be scared of.

“Let’s keep going, um, like this,” Kurt said, taking a deep breath, resting his hands on Blaine’s hips. “I want to.”

Blaine rubbed his nose against Kurt’s. “Okay. But promise you’ll stop us if you need to. Don’t try and push through. There’s no rush.”

Kurt nodded, and with a smile, Blaine pressed down against him, kissing him and touching him everywhere. Kurt just relaxed into it at first, alert for any sign of the panic that swamped him earlier, but all he could feel was pleasure and delicious anticipation. He let himself respond to Blaine’s attention, pressing sure strokes down Blaine’s back, and exploring his ass, round and firm under his palms.

Blaine shuffled forward a little bit and licked up under Kurt’s jaw, sucking kisses on his neck, until Kurt was breathless. He put a hand to Blaine’s head and pulled him close for a long series of kisses, hard and deep, both of them panting into each other’s mouths, hungry for more. With Blaine’s face right next to his, Kurt let his fingers trail down Blaine’s crack, still wet with lube, and began rubbing around his hole. Blaine gave up on kissing at that point, breathing hard against Kurt, wiggling and shifting so that Kurt could reach better, his breath coming harder now as he chased the feeling.

When Kurt paused, Blaine took a breath and then pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “Feels so good, Kurt. Love you. Love the way you touch me.”

That was the green light, then, and Kurt knew he had to make up his mind. He gazed into Blaine’s gorgeous brown eyes, sweat making his curls stick to his forehead, and smiled. “Love touching you.” He took a breath. “Ride me?”

“Yeah?” Although it wasn’t necessary, Kurt loved that Blaine checked one more time, like the gentleman he was, even as his hips rocked forward against Kurt, eager to get started.

“Yeah.” Kurt scrambled to find the lube, then slipped a finger into Blaine’s already stretched hole, soon adding a second and a third. He had to bite his lip to focus as Blaine moaned with pleasure and pressed down on his fingers, breathing hard against his ear. He finally slipped his fingers out and reached for a clean condom. Soon enough Blaine was raising himself up and sliding down, and Kurt was as far inside him as he could be, amazing pressure and heat surrounding him. 

“Baby, you okay?” Blaine was gazing down at him, one hand softly grazing his cheek as he leaned heavily on the other.

“Yeah, yes.” Kurt pushed up against Blaine with his hips, eliciting a gasp and a smirk from Blaine. “Good to go.” With Blaine in control Kurt knew he wasn’t hurting him, knew nothing was happening that Blaine didn’t want. Kurt could relax, let his worries float away on waves of pleasure. Things moved quickly from there, Blaine moving up and down carefully at first, then picking up the pace, keeping himself as close to Kurt as he could. Kurt let the feeling fill him, wrapping a leg around Blaine, wanting to be even closer. 

“So beautiful, Kurt, love you, love you,” Blaine chanted, moving to sit back on his thighs and run his hands over Kurt’s chest, while still moving his ass up and down over Kurt. Thank god for dance classes, Kurt thought, and shifted up a little to take over some of the work. He ran a hand over Blaine’s chest, pausing to tweak his nipples, one after the other. “Oh, yes, so good, Kurt, oh, god.” Blaine usually wasn’t quite this vocal during sex, and Kurt wondered if he was doing it to make sure Kurt knew how he was feeling, so Kurt wouldn’t worry. He would have to tell him later that it worked – and it was hot.

Kurt could tell Blaine was close when he couldn’t even form words anymore, and he slid his own hand between them to pull at Blaine’s cock. 

“Kurt… oh, shit, Kurt…”

“It’s okay, come on,” Kurt reassured him. “Let go.”

“Want you to come too,” Blaine panted out. “Wanna feel you come inside me.”

“Blaine...” Kurt grabbed Blaine’s ass and thrust up again, two, three more times, and then he was coming, still moving through it as everything exploded around him. Moments later Blaine came hard, spurting out over Kurt’s hand as he moaned and shook above him. Kurt grabbed some tissues and wiped up the worst of the mess and then got rid of the condom, Blaine collapsing on his back at his side.

When he could think straight again, Kurt realized that Blaine was trembling. Kurt put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” Blaine turned his head and blinked at him, the look in his eyes a little nervous. "Come here, sweetheart," he said, curling towards Blaine and pulling him close. "God, I love you. I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Blaine’s head. “It's a lot, isn't it?" 

Blaine nodded and tucked himself in against Kurt, his curls damp where they brushed Kurt's cheek. Kurt reached around to find the sheet and pulled it over them, already starting to feel chilled. He breathed deeply, running a hand up and down over Blaine’s back under the sheet, relieved when Blaine calmed and nestled in closer against him, one leg twining up and over Kurt’s.

Where Kurt’s emotions had been all over the place earlier, he now felt centered, grounded, peaceful. Nothing quite like turning yourself inside out and discovering that everything was still okay, he thought. It would always be okay, because he had Blaine. Thank god, or whoever’s up there, that he still had Blaine.

"I'd feed you my blood, you know," Kurt said thoughtfully.

"What?" Blaine cracked an eye open and raised himself up on an elbow to look at Kurt.

"If we were vampires, of course."

And because Blaine was Blaine, ever willing to suspend disbelief with Kurt in the service of their joint dedication to drama and tolerance for each others' quirks, he went with it, a smile spreading across his face. "Of course, if we were vampires."

"Because that's what it feels like, loving you," Kurt continued. He knew he was being silly, but at the same time, he meant it, from the bottom of his heart. "I'd give you anything, any part of me, to keep you alive, and happy, and safe."

"Kurt." Blaine had this way of saying his name that never failed to let Kurt know how much he was loved. And apparently the combination of their emotionally laden evening, a mind-blowing orgasm, and Kurt's declaration had rendered Blaine otherwise speechless.

Kurt traced a finger from Blaine's forehead, where his scrapes had long since healed, down over his cheekbone, where a hint of a fading scar still remained. Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, his long lashes dark against his skin. "Blaine, what you've been through... You are amazing. Not for the first time, I am so, so proud to be with you.”

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled. “I’ll always want you to be.”

Kurt put a hand to Blaine’s chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. “You are so incredibly strong. We're going to be okay. I know it."

Blaine took Kurt's hand from where it was pressed against his chest and held it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I know it, too." He took a deep breath and caught Kurt's eyes, his expression earnest and fragile. "Thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past few months, Kurt. I don’t know how I would have made it through all of this without you."

Kurt gazed into Blaine’s eyes, and brushed a kiss to his reddened lips. “Thank you for forever.”

Blaine blushed, and Kurt put a hand to his cheek. “Isn’t that what we promised each other?” Kurt asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s true. That’s you’re really mine.”

“It’s true, there’s no escaping it. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”

Blaine sighed happily. He closed his eyes and pressed snug against Kurt, his head resting on his shoulder, just where Kurt wanted him to be. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too." Kurt held Blaine close and relaxed, reveling in the feel of his love all around him. Somehow, after one of the worst experiences he could imagine, he and Blaine were still here together, safe in each other's embrace, their love for each other strong and sure. If they could survive this, Kurt thought, there was nothing that could stop them. He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, the love of his life held tightly in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a minute to let me know if you enjoyed this story, it means a lot to me and inspires me to keep writing, even as Glee has ended. 
> 
> I know a lot of readers don't like to comment, but I see that you are reading this story and it makes me very happy to know it still has an audience. A comment would be even more wonderful!


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